


Toys

by Tessa54



Series: Making Progress [22]
Category: The A-Team (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28711263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tessa54/pseuds/Tessa54
Summary: Sunday afternoon and all the stores are closed. But Face is the Supply Officer and it's his job to produce a reasonable facsimile of what Murdock demands.
Relationships: H. M. "Howling Mad" Murdock/Templeton "Faceman" Peck
Series: Making Progress [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021144
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Toys

“Are you listening to me, Face?”

Face started guiltily and casually knocked aside the newspaper, trying to imply that he had not been glancing at the Stock Exchange Report. Sunday brunch; and Murdock hated it when he cooked a special meal and Face didn’t give it one hundred percent of his attention. He stole a glance at Murdock, trying to gauge the depth of the trouble he was in… Okay. Right. Deep trouble. So, try to wriggle out with a snow job, or just beg for forgiveness? Murdock’s frown told him that begging would be the best option. He looked up at Murdock and tried a tentative smile.

“I’m sorry, Murdock… really I am. I was glancing at the Team’s investments and I just got a little bit sidetracked there for a minute…” he allowed his voice to trail off, mentally crossing his fingers that the pathos in his voice would distract his partner.

Murdock was not to be distracted. Murdock was annoyed.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Face? No newspapers at the table,” he began in an aggrieved tone. Face murmured an apology, which Murdock ignored. “I’ve been slaving over a hot stove for an hour,” he continued, glaring at Face, “and I’ll bet you haven’t even tasted one mouthful.” Face tried to speak. “No! Forget it, Face. I don’t wanna hear it.” The glare intensified. “So, why not?”

Face floundered. His worst nightmares were coming true. Not only had he not been giving his undivided attention to the delicious meal of ‘Eggs Benedict With Smoked Salmon’ that Murdock had cooked but, obviously while he was preoccupied, Murdock had asked him a question. To which his partner now required an answer. He wracked his brains; maybe, just maybe, somewhere in his subconscious, that question had filtered through. Maybe, if he could answer it, he could save himself… Murdock dashed his hopes.

“You have no idea, do you? You weren’t listening to a word I said, were you?”

Face tried to concentrate, to filter out everything but his lovers’ voice, and was left with the truth. No, he hadn’t; and no, he wasn’t. Busted, Templeton. Only one course of action open now… lie. Fake it. No! That’s just gonna end in tears. Tell the truth. Face shuddered imperceptibly as he prepared himself. He tried to arrange his features into a winning smile.

“I’m sorry, buddy, I was…” Face quailed at the uncompromising look of disgust that Murdock shot his way. He felt the hot flush of shame on his cheeks and dropped his head. “Please, Murdock… I’m sorry. Really. I got distracted and that’s unforgiveable, I know. I promise,” he said earnestly, seeking his lovers’ eyes, “that it will never happen again. I didn’t hear what you asked, I admit that. Please baby, could you repeat the question? Please…”

Murdock pouted and turned away.

“Oh, please, baby. I will never do it again… C’mon, Murdock, please…” Face cajoled, crossing his fingers, physically this time, behind his back. “Why not what?”

Murdock took a deep breath, let it out, then took in another before rounding on his hapless partner. “Repeat the question? You want me to repeat the question? If you had been listening to me I wouldn’t have to repeat the question,” he said bitterly, his voice rising in both volume and pitch. “But what you **really** want to know, Templeton, is what I said before that question, isn’t it? Hmm?” Face nodded, eyes cast down humbly. Murdock smiled, an icy smile. “I’m not a cruel guy by nature, Face, so I’m gonna tell you. Here is the important question, muchacho: why have you never brought home any toys?”

Face looked up. Murdock was standing there across the table, glaring at him, eyebrows raised, hands on hips. 

“Toys? I don’t know what you mean…” Face’s mind raced, thinking back frantically. Images thrust themselves into his mind. “But I have. Lots of them. Only last week I brought that radio-controlled helicopter, remember?” he spluttered. “You’ve gotta remember that, buddy. We flew it in the park. And the Operation game. And that cool Star Wars chess set…” he trailed off in the face of Murdock’s ominous glower. “I don’t know what else you want me to get…”

Murdock smiled – a tight smile – and regarded his bewildered lover benevolently. “You really don’t know, do you, Facey? So I’m gonna tell ya – just this once. Toys, sugar. Toys for the bedroom. You know…?” Face blushed. Murdock smiled broadly, indulgently. “Now you’re getting the idea, baby.”

“For the bedroom – right,’’ Face’s voice was barely a whisper. Murdock smiled encouragingly. “So the handcuffs…?” he began, hopefully. Murdock shook his head firmly. “Well then, the …”

“Nope, Facey, you can’t say anything I got,” Murdock’s voice was both discouraging and disparaging. “You’re a complete block of concrete in the _‘spicing things up’_ department.”

Face grinned. “Oh, come on, buddy, don’t tell me you’re bored with me already? So soon? Come on over here, Murdock, and I’ll show you…”

Murdock shrugged and turned his back. “No, I don’t think so, muchacho. Eat your eggs before they get stone cold. I didn’t make that Hollandaise Sauce for fun, y’know.”

Face obediently turned to the delicious food on his plate. No point in arguing; that never got him anywhere. But his mind was working… Toys. He wants toys. Sunday afternoon; all the stores are closed; how to come up with toys…?

It was two hours later and Face had made sure that the television in the bedroom was playing the same cartoons that Murdock was watching in the living room. Where he was sitting in the corner of the couch. Still huffy and closed in on himself, his arms clutching his knees. _‘Okay. I can work on that,’_ thought Face, sitting beside his pilot. He picked up the remote control and switched off the television. Not unexpectedly, Murdock turned on him angrily.

“I was watching that…” Face cut off his angry accusation with a passionate and ardent kiss.

“Yeah, but you can watch it in the bedroom, baby,” he murmured when they came up for air. “We can get comfortable… and I’ll watch it with you. Maybe.” Face winked and jumped up, pulling Murdock with him and breathing a sigh of relief when his lover followed him willingly but, ominously, muttering under his breath. Face pretended not to hear.

In the bedroom, the TV was playing quietly, tuned to Murdock’s cartoons. The bed itself was piled with pillows and cushions, making a comfortable and inviting nest. Face led Murdock in and watched indulgently as the pilot flung himself down in the middle of the bed, snuggling into the cushions with a happy sigh, and settled down to relax and watch his programme.

Face shrugged off his tee-shirt and, barefoot and clad only in jeans, slid in beside his lover. They watched Woody Woodpecker in silence for a few minutes. Murdock giggled at the antics of the bird and slapped Face playfully on the thigh, his attention glued to the screen.

Face slid down the bed and started to unfasten Murdock’s right sneaker…

“What are you doing, Face?” A sharp, peremptory enquiry. Still not forgiven then.

Assuming his most innocent voice, Face looked up with a gentle smile. “Just getting you comfortable, baby. No footwear on the bedding, remember? I’ll be done in just a minute – relax and watch Woody.” Murdock grunted.

Face resumed his task, carefully divesting the pilot of sneakers and socks, taking his time and caressing as he went, finishing with fingernails running up the sole of Murdock’s right foot and, simultaneously, his mouth kissing and sucking the big toe. Murdock shook him off, reached down a hand and, finding no collar to take hold of, took a grip of Face’s hair and pulled firmly.

“Stop that and get up here. Right now.”

Face had no choice but to comply. He moved upwards where directed, laid himself down alongside his lover and concentrated on the screen. Apparently.

For a few more minutes they watched the cartoon, Face as raptly as Murdock. Apparently.

Face considered his options in the light of a military campaign. He had a clear view of his strategy. Objective: naked, writhing, helpless Murdock coming at least once, probably in his, Face’s, mouth. Tactics were the problem. The enemy was currently wearing a tee-shirt and khakis, so the available naked flesh for stimulation was limited. Feet would definitely work as an infiltration site; but the enemy had already cut off that line of attack. So, as Hannibal would say, gotta go in through the front door – a frontal attack with a half pincer movement might win the day here.

Murdock’s attention being riveted on the screen, Face snuck his hand behind him to the bucket on the floor and picked up a piece of ice in his fingers. He licked Murdock’s ear, lazily, then sucked the lobe gently. Murdock shook him off again. Face persisted; nibbling gently until Murdock allowed the caress then, carefully, brought up his hand and ran the ice cube around the shell of Murdock’s ear, very briefly and fleetingly, before following with his hot breath and lips. Murdock gasped, but resumed his cartoon watching when Face did nothing further.

A short time later, Face repeated the manoeuvre, this time running the ice around Murdock’s ear and along his jaw, briefly, and following immediately with his hot tongue. Murdock shuddered. Face held the ice in his mouth and blew gently in Murdock’s ear; meanwhile his hand caressed his lover’s chest, sliding downwards until it reached the top of the khakis and started to pull the tee-shirt loose. He reached down and picked up another piece of ice and ran it fleetingly around the exposed navel and up towards the chest. He dropped the ice back in the ice-bucket.

“Facey – what are you doing?” Murdock’s voice had that little hitch that told Face that he was zeroing in on target.

Face leaned over to kiss his pilot; hot tongue then cold ice working together to produce the desired effect. His hand slid down further, under the waistband of the khakis, to where Murdock’s erection was already rising. 

“Nothing,” he said, in his best innocent voice, when he broke the kiss. “Just making love to you, buddy. And I don’t need toys for that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Kinktober 2020.  
> October 29th: Ice Cubes


End file.
